by Brooklyn Ann
He watched her shrug in indifference as Lefty abandoned her to join Curt and the blonde. Glorious long legs stretched as she rose from her seat. Goddamn, she was beautiful. Quinn couldn’t manage even a pang of remorse for interrupting her interview.
He approached her, feeling like a kid at a chaperoned dance. “Want me to grab you another beer?”
Kinley shook her head. “I gotta head back to the bus to edit these interviews.”
“Damn, you never quit working, do you?” His tone came out sharper than he intended. “Sorry, I’m just tired.”
The understanding in her gaze nearly undid him. “Don’t worry about it.” Her cheeks pinkened as she looked down at the floor. “Um…have a good night.”
Quinn’s fists clenched at his sides as he watched her blush. Did she know how close he’d come to kissing her earlier? How close he was now?
“You too, Kinley.” Before he could make the mistake of a lifetime, he left the party and retreated to his room.
Despite the solitude and quiet, Quinn found little peace. The shower was still wet, bringing an image of Kinley’s lithe form to the forefront of his mind. He groaned as his cock hardened. This was not the right time to let lust overtake him and she was not the right person to be lusting after. Still, as he turned on the hot spray and washed his hair, he couldn’t stop thinking about her, wanting her.
Quinn frowned as he turned off the water and toweled off. Kinley was an employee, damn it. And an employee who’d kept secrets from him. Why had she been so ashamed of being in a tribute band? With her obvious talent, they couldn’t have been bad.
Thrumming with curiosity, he pulled out his laptop and looked up all-girl Megadeth tribute bands. Kinley’s wasn’t that hard to find. They’d called themselves the Megadames. Cute. There were even a few videos.
Despite the poor video and sound quality, Kinley’s and Katana’s talent was mind-blowingly apparent. Katana was even better than Kinley. She added unique embellishments to the lead solos while Kinley imitated the original riffs perfectly. The bassist and drummer were adequate, but the other two clearly carried the show. Chills ran down his spine as Kinley sang “Holy Wars.” Who would have thought Megadeth could sound so beautiful? Awe filled him as they came to the dueling guitar segment of “Hangar 18.”
Quinn shook his head. Kinley didn’t belong chained to a computer, running a fan website. And her friend Kat didn’t either. His frown deepened. Furthermore, Kinley definitely didn’t deserve a roadie’s life of drudgery, crammed in the stinking back of a tour bus. And subjected to bullying by assholes like Phil.
He still hated the idea of her being back there with those guys.
He turned off his computer and flopped onto the bed with a sigh. Something would have to be done about her, but what?
A vision of Kinley’s deft handling of his Fender superimposed over a memory of Curt cussing out Phil over yet another broken guitar string. A solution became clear.
Chapter Nine
Kinley closed her laptop and leaned back in her bunk with a yawn. Being back on the road was already proving to be frustrating. They were halfway through a grueling, two-day drive to the next gig. Already Kinley’s coworkers were grumbling about boredom and lack of female companionship. She caught them leering at her, even the ones who’d previously treated her with indifference. Kinley wasn’t flattered by the attention. It had nothing to do with how she looked and everything to do with the fact that she was the only one with tits available—not that she had much of those.
When the bus parked at a rest stop, she was tempted not to shower. Maybe if she stank as badly as they did, they’d back off. But the stupid girl within her couldn’t bear the thought of being repulsive to Quinn.
Digging out a towel, a change of clothes, and her toiletries, Kinley headed to the concrete restroom, praying that this rest stop had showers. The last one didn’t and she’d had to make do with the rusty sink. She’d been feeling grimy ever since.
A prayer of thanks crossed her lips when she saw the sign pointing to the showers. Locking the door, she sighed in appreciation at the clean facility and new tile floors. A moan of pure bliss escaped her when she stepped under the spray. The water wasn’t as hot as she’d prefer, but it was still enough to get her clean and ease a measure of the tension in her aching muscles.
She remained under the spray until the water cooled, then reluctantly dressed and towel dried her hair before heading back to the bus. The roadies had gathered outside around a fire pit by the picnic tables, stretching their legs and passing a bottle of whiskey around.
Joe beckoned her. “Want some hair of the dog?”
She shook her head and continued on. She was still a little hungover from the Portland party.
Exhaustion sank deeper into her muscles with every step. She collapsed on her bunk. Sleep sucked her under the moment she pulled the covers over her head.
Dreams of shredding guitars, bright lights, and Quinn’s smile danced through her mind until suddenly a heavy weight settled on her chest, jerking her awake.
Phil lay on top of her, breathing noxious, cheap whiskey fumes in her face.
“Oops,” he said, not sounding the least bit shameful. “Wrong bunk. But since I’m here…” His pelvis pressed against hers as he leaned forward to kiss her.
Frantically, Kinley seized his face, stopping his mouth’s descent. “I think you should find the right bunk.”
“Jesus, I was just trying to be nice,” he slurred, drooling on her fingers and still not moving.
“Get off me!” She tried to push him off, but her other hand was trapped under the covers.
“What the hell is going on here?” Quinn demanded as he strode into the back area of the bus with Gaffer at his heels.
Phil’s eyes widened and he bolted off her like she was a hot coal. “We were just having a little fun.”
Quinn’s blazing gaze met Kinley’s, savage and unfamiliar. “Were you having fun?” he growled.
She shook her head, though he didn’t seem to be looking entirely at her. His eyes darted around as if tracking unseen threats, his lips compressed in a grim line and his fists clenched white-knuckled at his sides.
Oblivious to the unleashed fury in the room, Phil continued to blabber. “That’s ’cuz she a cold bi—”
“Pack your stuff, Kinley.” Quinn cut him off, those fiery, alien eyes never leaving hers.
“What?” Is he going to kick me off the tour because of that asshole?
“You’re moving up front with us,” he said in cold command.
Phil laughed. “You’ve been demoted to groupie status.”
Kinley made a fist and darted forward, fully intending to break his nose, but Quinn grabbed her at the last second, holding her back. Part of her wanted to jerk out of his grasp and give Phil the beating he’d had coming since the day she started. Another part wanted to melt against Quinn’s hot, firm body. So she remained rigid.
“No,” Quinn replied in a dangerous, silky voice. “She’s been promoted to guitar tech. I need her up with us so Curt and I can tell her what we expect from her.”
“But that’s my job!” Phil whined. “And I never got to sleep up front. You just want her up there to be your little whore.”
“And you,” Quinn continued, ignoring his protest, “are now demoted to her position.”
Phil sputtered in incoherent rage. “What the fuck! You can’t—”
“No, but I can and I’d already made the decision last night,” Gaffer said in a voice that dared him to argue. “I just let Quinn deliver the news.”
Phil’s shoulders slumped as his bravado vanished. “B-but why?”
Quinn rounded on him with a snarl, pointing an accusing finger. “You’ve been nothing but a pain in the ass since Kinley started. We’ve all seen it. Viciöus is supposed to be a team, if not a family. Lately, you seemed to have forgotten that.”
“But—”
“Another word from you and Kinley has full permission to
lay your ass out. So shut the fuck up, and let her pack her stuff.” He spared her a brief glance, green eyes blazing, before he closed the door. “You have five minutes.”
Gaffer crossed his arms over his chest and waited while Kinley packed. Phil obeyed Quinn and kept his mouth shut, but the blazing hatred in his eyes assured Kinley that this was far from over.
She had bigger concerns right now. In moments, she’d be in the front of the bus with the band, with Quinn. And she’d just gotten the biggest promotion of her life. Guitar tech for Viciöus.
Her heart pounded and her fingers trembled as she packed, repeating a silent litany in her mind. Please God, don’t let me blow this.
***
Quinn paced through the narrow walkway in the front of the bus, a red haze still overlaying his vision.
“So you gave her Phil’s job?” Curt said, rising sleepily from his bunk. “If she can do the job, that’s cool, but it would have been nice to have been consulted first.”
“I tried to tell you, but you were off with Lefty and some girls.”
“Oh, okay.” He rubbed his eyes and scratched his head. “But why is she moving up here with us?”
“Phil was on top of her.” Quinn nearly spat the words like bitter poison as the memory of his former guitar tech poised over Kinley was superimposed by the memory of his former band mates on top of his baby sister.
All my fault. He rubbed his temples as a crimson field of rage washed over his mind.
“What the fuck?” His drummer’s voice pulled him back to the present. “He doesn’t even like her. Why would he—”
“It didn’t look like an act of liking.”
Before he could say more, Kinley opened the partition and stepped into the VIP section of the bus.
Thankfully, Curtis changed the subject. “So, I hear you’re gonna be our new guitar tech.”
Kinley shrugged, the nonchalant gesture spoiled by her trembling hands. She was still shaken up by the bastard. Quinn fought back the urge to pull her into his arms and vow he’d never let anyone touch her again.
The guitarist smiled through half-lidded eyes. “At least I hear you can shred.” He blinked and sat up, reaching for his guitar. “Lemme give ya some pointers.”
“Um, guys,” Tony interrupted. “Where’s she supposed to sleep?”
Kinley shot them all an anxious glance and took a step back.
Oh shit. Quinn hadn’t thought that part through.
Thankfully Gaffer saved the situation. “She’s taking my bunk and I’ll take her old one. It seems I need to keep a better eye on the crew.” With that, he grabbed his backpack and headed to the back of the bus.
Everyone sighed with relief that another complication had been avoided, though part of Quinn wished the road manager had kept his mouth shut, that he could have announced that Kinley would be sleeping in his bunk. Instead he nodded as if that had been his idea in the first place.
As Kinley walked past him carrying her duffel bag and laptop case to Gaffer’s bunk, Quinn was struck by how vulnerable she looked. He could tell from her crimson cheeks and the white-knuckled grip on her bag that she was embarrassed by the turn of events, and maybe even intimidated by the proximity of the band who, except for him, had little interaction with her until now.
He shot his band mates a challenging glance. If any of them said anything to increase her discomfort, he would…
His clenched fists relaxed as he saw that Brand had already fallen back asleep, a pillow over his head. Curt still watched her curiously, but showed no signs of lechery or hostility. Tony gave her an encouraging smile before going back to texting his wife.
Quinn looked over at Kinley. She’d climbed into the bunk and had been watching him. Quickly, she looked away, rolling over to face the wall.
Now Curt was studying him. Quinn raised a brow and attempted to stare his guitarist down. “What?”
Curt shook his head and smiled. “Nothing, man. Nothing at all.”
It seemed that Quinn was the only one reacting to his roadie’s new sleeping arrangements. He frowned and flopped down in his own bunk, determined to maintain the same disinterest as the others.
Turning his attention to the window, he tried to focus on the stars and rolling landscape around them, but Kinley’s presence permeated his consciousness, seeming to fill the cabin with teasing heat. He picked out the sound of her soft, even breathing over the others and wondered how she’d sound gasping in pleasure.
It took an eternity to fall asleep.
The next morning, Quinn awoke with the biggest, most agonizing hard-on imaginable. He rolled onto his back, listening to the patter of rain against the bus walls and the muted hum of tires on pavement, willing the sounds to ease him back to slumber. Unfortunately, his lower half refused to be subdued.
Guilt gnawed his gut. Sure, he had protected her from the crew by bringing her up here, but that didn’t stop him from wanting her as well.
Unwittingly, Kinley expounded his torture when she rose from her bunk, giving him a tantalizing view of her exquisite body.
Her tank top had ridden up in her sleep, exposing her smooth, creamy bare back. He bit back a groan. The agony intensified when she returned from the bathroom. She’d fixed her top, but now he could see her hardened nipples through the thin fabric.
She met his gaze with a blush and a half-smile. “Good morning.”
“Morning.” He looked away before she could see his rabid hunger.
Kinley paced nervously in front of the bunk for a moment before slowly perching on the edge. “So, what are we supposed to do today?”
“You can start by handing me my cigarettes.” Quinn looked down, making sure the blanket hid, well, everything. There was no way he’d be able to get out of this bed for awhile, not without exposing his predicament.
She blinked at his abrupt tone, but grabbed his pack of Camels, a lighter, and an empty beer can for him to use as an ashtray. As he lit up, she fired up her laptop and went back to work on her site.
“Your interview was a success,” she remarked, voice slightly quavering. “It’s only been up since last night and already the comments section has exploded.”
Quinn took a deep drag of his cigarette. “Nice.”
He didn’t give a damn about the site right now. It took every bit of his will not to yank Kinley into his arms and make love to her, audience be damned.
The nauseating sound of Curt snorting his morning line of coke echoed through the cabin, doing much to dull the mood. “Curt’s up.”
Kinley’s lip curled in revulsion. “Ewww.”
Tony rolled out of his bunk, scratching his balls as he lumbered to the driver’s compartment to request a coffee stop. That sight killed the physical remains of his desire.
“Wake and bake?” Brand offered, passing his pipe to Quinn.
He took a hit, hoping the weed would calm his nerves.
When he passed the pipe to Kinley, she shook her head and returned to her laptop. “No thanks. I gotta keep a clear head when I’m working. Besides, that stuff makes me too giggly.”
Quinn raised a brow. “Giggly? You? I’d like to see that.” She was far too serious.
Her cheeks once more turned an adorable pink. Suddenly, Quinn realized something. Kinley blushed a lot around him. Was it possible that this electric attraction wasn’t one-sided? Did she want him as much as he wanted her? All of his guilt for lusting after her vanished at the prospect, replaced by speculation.
Sure, mixing sex with the job was not the best idea. But Kinley was special. He’d never met a woman like her. Could it work between them? As the bus stopped and everyone folded their bunks back into bench seats, he wondered if he should find out. Either way, he was determined to pull her from her shell and get to know her better.
Yet, right now, all she cared about was work.
Munching on a doughnut, she sat next to Curt at the table. “When do my lessons start?”
Curt grinned. “Anytime you want ’em t
o, babe.” He wiggled his hips like a bad Elvis impersonator. “I could show you all sorts of tricks.”
Quinn gave him a dark look. “She means learning her duties as a guitar tech.” He turned to Kinley. “Do you know how to play any of our songs?”
“Hell yeah.” She took a sip of her coffee and rattled off nearly half their catalogue. Somehow that didn’t surprise him in the least.
“We keep our acoustic guitars up in the overhead compartment,” Quinn explained, trying to mask his eagerness to hear her play again. “Brand could bust out his bass if you need him to provide backing rhythm.”
Curt was already up, grabbing the instruments. “I’m down to jam.”
Quinn took the guitars, handing Curt’s to Kinley. “First, I want to see what she knows.” He began the rhythm section of one of their hits, impressed when she came in with the lead melody right on cue.
He tested her for a few more songs, and though Kinley was obviously eager to please, he could tell she was nervous around him. She messed up the chords almost every time their eyes met. Eying her shaking hands, Quinn frowned. She’d have to get over that. And why was she so nervous anyway?
“Okay, now Curt can explain what you’ll be doing for us during the shows.” As he left her alone with the guitarist—though still keeping an eye on her— he pulled out his phone and looked up her site again. She hadn’t broken her promise and said anything online about touring with them, had she?
Unobtrusively, he settled in the lounge area next to the other guys, pretending to watch them play video games on the Xbox as he perused Kinley’s site. A small sigh of relief escaped him as he checked her recent posts.
She still hadn’t said a word about working for them. Not even a hint. Admiration filled him. From her excited chatter to her friend over the phone, it had to have been tough for her to keep from spilling the news on her site.
He glanced at her again, admiring the shiny gleam of her hair as she bent her head to Curt in rapt attention.
Unlike the others, with their greasy hair and faces covered with days-old stubble, she was immaculate. At first he’d been amused by her efforts to keep up with hygiene on the road, but now he felt reluctant respect. Showers could be few and far between for the road crew, so she had to have been innovative and determined to get that silken mass of hair cleaned in a truck stop bathroom.
